Dreams in the Night
by TheButterflyComposer
Summary: "You know, to be honest I only came here to see how well you did," she said in a small voice. "Hmm. To share a little secret..." I leaned in closer, our foreheads were touching now, "...I was thinking the exact same thing" When Harry meets Hermione, a friend from his past, the only thing he can say for certain was that this was going to be a night to remember.
1. Finding her

**For the ones I love who didn't come back.**

* * *

**Chapter One**

_'This was a terrible idea,' _I thought to myself as a entered the large wooden building that contained the early OWL results day. Apparently, some genius had decided to make it a trade fair too, as the stalls and bustling market indicated.

Crap, Sirius is probably laughing at me down there in hell.

I shut off thoughts of my godfather and steeled myself for the press.

Thankfully, in most countries I was a foot note in history. I was grateful for that, as it meant that the smear campaign the Ministry had been writing around me the past few months had been ignored by the vast majority of the people here.

What did get their attention was me fighting Voldemort...again.

The various flashbulbs inevitably went off as I answered in auto-pilot. My general dislike for the mass media was noticed almost immediately. The press from these other countries seemed to have manners at least, and withdrew back to carry on photographing the world's finest young minds.

* * *

It was just before the line up for the slips that contained our results when I saw her.

It had been..._how long had it been_?

Five years, six months and four days.

It was a long time and yet...

I recognised her.

A few seconds later, she recognised me.

"Good evening," I said, flinching at the sound of my own voice.

It was far too cold for a greeting.

"Hello Harry," she said softly.

Her voice had lost the English accent. It was clinically correct now, as if she had never really used it in a while but had striven to perfect it none the less.

She was still Hermione then.

"Sorry," I blurted out, "It's just a little bit of a shock to see you, even when I had stolen the register that said you were coming."

Her eyes flickered and her mouth curled upwards in amusement.

"Hmm, are you ever going to start trusting anyone, Harry?"

"Probably not..."

There were noises all around from people moving about and talking, but nothing penetrated our little bubble of silence.

"It is good to see you," I said at last.

The years had been good to her. Her tan had darkened a little and she had reached an impressive height, almost as tall as I myself stood. She had a sleek pair of arms that were toned with the slight edges of muscle. I couldn't see any scars on her and I flinched when I realised that she was probably wondering about mine.

"I wish I could say the same Harry," she was using her quiet voice, her way of trying not to cry, "What happened to you? You look like you've been dragged through the past five years on your face? What happened with..."

"Voldemort?" I asked after five seconds.

She nodded.

"Well, that's a long story. How much do you know already?" I asked.

"Only as much as is in the history books," she answered.

I was irrationally angry for a second. She _knew_ about me being in the magical world and yet she hadn't tried to contact me...

That feeling was crushed by guilt.

_I_ ran away, it was hardly her fault for not chasing after me.

"After I ran away...what did you do?" I asked, genuinely curious but also shame faced.

"It was horrible Harry," she said, not quite outright screaming at me but I could see the sentiment and hear the hurt in her voice. _"I thought you had died._ I thought that they had..." She tapered off and I raised my hand. I was suddenly uncertain as to what to do.

My hand found her shoulder and she stopped looking down.

"I was so _angry_ when it came out that you had run away. Angry at the Dursleys, angry at you for leaving me...hurt that you didn't come to me for help first. And then the magical offers came through for several magic schools and it was killing me. What if you came back and I wasn't there? My parents took control a few weeks later. You remember how we were planning on moving anyway..." Hermione stopped again.

I nodded, stupefied by her reaction. She was never one for sobbing and was in my opinion, the strongest person I had ever known.

I hated myself for being the cause of her pain, no matter how long ago it had been.

"Then...then I left for Beauxbatons. I found out about your...story in the first week. I'm so sorry, Harry," she said, her voice failing her at random intervals now.

"I...Thank you," I murmerd.

My parents death had been buried in my soul for a long time now. I was simply glad she acknowledge the loss.

She smiled weakly and looked up for the first time in several minutes.

"I was wondering if you knew yourself, whether you had been found and brought into the Wizarding world. I...I didn't know whether to write. I wasn't sure whether the owl could find you and...," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "I wasn't sure if you wanted to hear from me."

I hugged her then, it was the only thing I could do in good conscious. I didn't trust myself to speak and explain how I felt properly... and I wasn't going to run from her again.

"You know, to be honest I only came here to see how well you did," she said with a small voice into my chest.

"Hmm. To share a little secret..." I whispered, leaning in closer, our foreheads touching now, "...I was thinking the exact same thing"

We both laughed at that.

Suddenly she dragged me into the queuing line.

"I shall be most interested to see your results, Mr Potter," she said in an incredible imitation of Minerva McGonnagal.

I told her so, and she laughed.

McGonnagal was a legend in life when it came to the teaching world, even in France.

* * *

I barely gave my slip a glance and don't even unfold it.

Hermione was driving me through the stalls and the markets, seeing and doing everything at once.

Suddenly I tugged back, sending us both spinning around each other in the snow, the flickering lights from the stalls whirling past us.

We were dancing.

Dancing! In fairly good time with the music flowing through the air too.

I spotted Luna as we were running through the place again, two teenagers suddenly ten again. The little blonde girl raised her eyebrows high above the band than split her face horizontally in half, and turned her sightless eyes towards me as we went past.

"Shut up," I murmured, in Luna's direction.

"What?" my companion said, looking up at me.

"She's internally questioning my sanity...raising her eyebrows at me smiling. What cheek!"

* * *

We talked as such for what seemed like years. I was turning back from a stall selling all kinds of rare books when I spotted her sitting on a step, already reading through her selection.

Our eyes met and suddenly, we knew we needed to talk about less pleasant things.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"I should have known that if I was magic, you were going to be. You always were..." I tailed off. She was always _what_?

As if I was really about to say that I thought she was magical?

Where had I got this gushiness from? Why the hell did I believe it to be true anyway?

I felt my cheeks...I was blushing?

When was the last time _that_ had happened?

Hermione was distracted however, biting her lip indicating that she was extremely concerned about something.

I tried to pull her back into reality.

"I see you came prepared," I observed, looking at her wooly hat and gloves, her winter coat and her scarf.

"See you haven't," she said, not quite coming out of her thoughts.

I indeed had not come prepared for any long stay in the outdoor weather. That she had insisted on wandering through a frosty garden for forty minutes was, I think, her punishment for me. '_Always come prepared_' was something we agreed to...so long ago when we thought the world would always be predictable.

"It's a rather beautiful picture isn't it?" I asked, in reference to the window next to me showing us a view of frozen forests and the river.

"Picture? Silly you, this is the real world," her reply came seamlessly, hitting me with a pang.

She had said the very same thing twelve years ago when I had confused a picture book with the view outside.

Sometimes I loved that she remembered as much as me, before I then thought of how painful viewing some of those memories must have been for her.

The times when either of us had been bullied, the times when the Durselys had been especially cruel.

I don't think I told even her about the cupboard...or the occasional beatings.

But she knew enough to worry.

"So how did you do?" she asked me.

I glanced at her, confused for a second before I remembered my secondary reason for coming here.

"Oh right...I don't know. I haven't looked," I admitted, feeling a little foolish at not doing so.

"I would be cross at your lack of excitement, but to be fair to you, I haven't looked at mine either."

"No?"

"No."

"I would have thought you at least would be _interested_ in your results."

"I am interested, just not in _my_ results," she said.

"Swap then?" I offered, thinking that it would be nice to see some good marks before looking at my own.

Her marks were good. Very good.

_Annoyingly_ good.

"I can safely say that you have passed, Miss Granger," I said with a straight face, passing her marks back.

She ignored the outstretched hand and plunged into a close hug.

"You did brilliantly, Harry."

"In all fairness, probably not as good as-"

"No," she interrupted, "If I did anything close to what you did, I'll be happy."

"Hmm, you are going to be very happy then," I said, muffled slightly by her scarf.

Our results turned out to be almost identical.

* * *

We were strolling outside when the event began to wind down.

I wasn't looking forward to leaving and I doubted she was either.

"So are you walking or..."

I saw the look on her face. Being so cavalier about leaving now after everything we'd done today was an insult.

"Sorry. I just-"

"You find it so _easy_ to leave."

Her accusation hung in the air.

"You always find it too easy to leave."

"I spent five years looking for you, you know," I said, not meeting her gaze, unwilling to let her see the truth of her statement in my face.

"And I was waiting long before then for you to show one damn honest smile on your face. Not just that one you wore when we were playing, but a sweet smile, a happy smile. Every time you used to smile you looked so sad."

"I tried...

"You remember that teacher we had in nursery?" Hermione said, not letting up, "You let her hold your hand, but that was it. Everyone else got a hug off her but for some reason you never-"

"You were the first."

Silence.

"You were the first person who hugged me. I think...you might have been the first to make me smile too."

"Oh..."

"I won't say that today was a mistake'" I said in a voice that sounded otherwise. "I enjoyed seeing you again. It was the best Christmas I've ever had."

"Harry, stop-"

"No...no, I still see you as my friend, my confidant, the only family...the only family I've ever had. But I'm not going to hurt you again. I can barely live with myself already. So if this is it...I will walk away. I wish you the best. Go back to your life Hermione. Mine is...as you say, sad."

I don't know how long we spent facing each other. I was freezing by now.

The only sign from her about the weather was the tinged red nose. I wasn't sure the cold was responsible for her moist eyes.

There didn't seem to be anything more to say.

* * *

I don't clearly remember who turned away first.

I like to think neither of us did.

I have a horrible feeling that it was me though, that I gave up first and left my friend staring helplessly into the darkness after me.

I don't know what she was thinking, but I was lost in memories of today. I tried to throw away the images of her smile, her prepared pocket full of gloves and hats. It was futile however.

* * *

She was still my Hermione.

And I was her Harry.


	2. Before: Harry's story

**Chalter 2: Before...**

I was alone. That was the truth of the matter.

Sirius lay dead in an arch that led to nowhere.

Dumbledore had returned only to throw another weight on me.

I was marked for death.

In some ways, it was a relief to know that my miserable little story would have an end sooner rather than later.

The others, those foolish brave people who followed me without cause to London were just now waking up.

Ginny was dead. In all manner of ways, I was responsible. How could I have let her go? She was never ready, never ready...

Ron was comatose, those brains had overloaded his own.

Neville was here...sort of. He wouldn't admit it, but the torture curse had broken him in some way. He spent his days wandering around his old gardens, seeing with unseeing eyes his once beloved plants.

Luna was alright.

She had lost her eyes, but was somehow seeing perfectly. Some people, I guess, can just do anything.

**I **was beaten. That was the real problem.

I was never one for giving in: the Basilisk didn't break me, even when I was dying I still somehow fought Voldemort. The tournament was never a concern, by that point, very little scared me at all. Voldemort afterwards did, but I was relieved in a way for the journey that was always going this way to end.

It didn't of course, my life would've only been tragic if it had.

No, this year never _bloody_ ends. I've spent four months back at the castle and every day has been hell.

Dumbledore abandons me, the wizarding world hates me and now they have the balls to tell me what to do.

_Fuck them._

I will fight him to defend myself, and anyone in my sight. But I am not going to save them from their own mess.

Dumbledore is at least eighty years old and swiftly kicked Voldie's arse. He can kill the bastard. Screw the prophecy and screw them.

_Love_?

I don't even know what that is.

I've never seen it in my despicable abusive relatives.

I don't see it in the streets I ran away to, that day before my thirteenth year began.

Tom was decent enough I suppose but I couldn't stay there, the Ministry and Dumbledore wanted me on a tight leash.

So I escaped.

It wasn't easy though. Every year at Hogwarts, that infernal old bastard tried to break my head finding where I was staying over summer. It helped that I didn't know myself.

When Sirius started staying in the shabby old house, it was a relief to both of us. I spent a few weeks here during the summer.

I learnt a lot from the library. Apparition, the unforgivable curses, all sorts of things.

I even learnt the fiendfyre spell that I'll use to torch this place...

* * *

Dumbledore doesn't know it was me who did that, of course.

He is still under the impression that I am quote unquote _weak and useless_, as if _anyone_ who was half as smart as me wouldn't try to learn everything they could about magic in the time that they had.

For me, the fact that I had been attacked three years in a row led me to spending my fourth year preparing for it again. The tournament was child's play, though the difficult part was trying not to show how developed I had become.

I got into trouble regarding the Yule Ball. For some reason they elected me to go along with a tradition I knew nothing of before and didn't care about now.

Morons.

* * *

I'm in a temporary residence at the moment. At least I hope it's temporary. I hadn't seen my aunt and uncle's place since I ran away. I had ran before, but that led to the disaster of magic.

They are out over Christmas. Morocco or some such place.

I don't really care.

This owl that I got however, intrigues me.

I filed for early exams with the OWL board because I wasn't sure how much longer I could take Umbridge without murdering her on the castle steps. I have always been good at my subjects, and have even made top of the year for the past two. I enjoyed the challenge of revising four years worth of stuff along with the extra fifth year spells. I'm not sure how well I've done to be honest.

That's what the owl was about by the way.

For some reason, the wizarding world congregates the early takers together. The results day is going to be held outside of Tara in Ireland. I can only presume that the ICW wants the best and brightest to mill around and stare at each other as they finish the major half of their education.

In another life, I might care.

As it is, I'm going to have to go out of my way...and past the press, the Ministry and Dumbledore, to get my marks.

This world is fucking cruel to me.

* * *

I'm in the Ministry of Magic, riffling through our esteemed, and soon to be sacked and probably murdered High Inquisitor's drawers. The Ministry encompasses Ireland too, and so they have a guest list of everyone who is coming into the country. They thankfully do not organise the event, just keep the records.

Hmm...there are a lot of A's in the Wizarding world Who's Who, aren't there...

If only they left the marks lying around so easily available.

I need those grades. Then I can quit Hogwarts and chase the sun as it were. Maybe go to a proper school and work towards a Masters degree or a doctorate? Actualy try fixing people for once instead of break them.

OWLs, as I understood them, were a mix between GCSE's and A levels. They were converted into A Levels if you were in the real world, I know because I asked the Muggle Studies teacher last year.

* * *

A name.

Before anything else happened, I saw _her_ name there.

I wasn't expecting it, but it felt like I _knew_ she would be on the list. Shock, at what I had just thought flooded through me.

I never knew that she was a witch. It felt right though, that she was. Not just that, but she had excelled here as she had done there.

_Hermione Jean Granger, 16._

It was almost certainly her. I doubt anyone else in the world carried such a name in this day and age.

_A memory:_

_Ribbons and sunshine. _

_Damn it, I'm not going down that rabbit hole again!_

I hadn't thought about it in a long time.

Never had quite managed to forget either.

My past beckoned to my present.

The question now was, what do I do next?


	3. After: Hermione's POV

**A note: This is not a happy chapter, and this story is M for a reason. It involves death, pain and unimaginable suffering, plus child death. This is not the last chapter of the story, but it is how it ends.**

**Chapter 3: ...After**

'_So this is what death looks like,_' I thought numbly to myself.

It had been three days since the news broke around our world about the battle of Hogwarts. The ancient castle had been turned into the grave of several thousand children and adults who had fought and died here together.

He was here too.

I looked down at the kneeling figure who had his back to me. His hair was more ragged, his jacket had burn marks and when he turned to the side to pick up bandages, I could see he had aged more than the three years since we last spoke.

"It's okay," he said to a whimpering girl, probably no more than eleven years old.

A child, an innocent.

Her intestines were falling through her trembling fingers from a huge tear in her side. No amount of magic would now save her.

"It's alright," he said softly, as she hunched in more and trembled less. "Everything will be good now."

Her eyes closed tiredly and did not open.

Harry bent his head a little, but I could only see the back, so I had no idea what his face looked like.

He didn't say anything. I've no idea what he could say.

"Goodnight Bethany...thank you."

He softly placed her hands together and laid her head back on the ground. I had seen him replicate this several times tonight and had still stayed rooted to the spot.

What could I possibly say?

Harry sighed, although by this time it was indiscriminate from his normal breathing. He was tired too, in many ways.

"You came," he said suddenly, jerking me out of my stupor.

"Yes," I said, being unable to imagine telling him anything else.

His head bent again for a second, before he stood and turned around.

I wasn't expecting it and, after the last five minutes of watching children die, I was on no mood to mask my feelings.

So when he turned around and I saw half of his face missing, I just broke down. I hated myself for it, even as I began crying and barely managed to avoid screaming. He didn't need this shit right now, but then again, just...

Why? Why, _why why why would he show me this way_?

"It's permanent, in case you were wondering," his mouth said, only half of it covered by skin of any kind.

His one eye was striking me against the tree I had leaned on. Its gaze was judging me, judging everyone.

"I..." I attempted, but what could I say?

It was a broken record in my mind, a steel ball crushing my wits. There was nothing, _nothing_ that I could ever say to him in this place.

'_I'm sorry_'

I didn't say it, because he didn't want my pity and wouldn't accept it had it been offered. Moreover, he would never forgive _anyone_ who wasn't fighting with him for this. We..._I_, had completely abandoned everyone here to suffer and die at the hands of Voldemort.

It was like when he left me, only far far worse.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly.

"W-w-what?" I spluttered, after hearing such an impossible sentence.

His eye fixed me for a second and I could see more than tiredness within, there was regret, sadness, pain and loss too. The stare lasted for more than a minute. It was as if he was trying to tell me something, but we both knew it already and he didn't want to insult either of us by saying it out loud.

I had no idea what that thing was, but I am afraid of what it could be.

Harry started to turn away.

"Wait. Wait!" I screamed desperately.

I didn't want to lose him again; my best friend and...

He was so close to me. I could smell his hair and his flesh.

His hand, so very scarred and bloody, was warm in mine.

I looked at his face again and I..._couldn't see him_.

Harry Potter was gone from this body, his soul had fled to some other place.

It is a morbidly curious thing that it was in that moment that I realised I was in love with him. That was the moment my heart broke because he was gone.

Those childhood fantasies, the adolescent dreams and wishes, and some...so good and loving ideas for our futures that only in my subconscious did they ever flower, all wilted under this stranger's gaze.

He was broken and we both knew it.

It was only when he brushed one of my tears away that I realised I was crying.

No...I was _sobbing_. My shoulders were shaking, my knees were weak and my stomach was aching.

"Oh god...oh god," I just kept saying it quietly over and over again.

My head bowed until it touched his chest and stayed there.

...

An eternity later, Harry lifted my head up and stepped away slightly.

"You're leaving then?" I said, utterly serious in my voice.

He nodded, and then hesitated, and shook his head.

"Not just leaving," he said quietly.

It took me a moment to realise, and then I was grappling with his hand again.

"You can't!" I yelled. "You can't!"

"Can I not?" he said bitterly. "I am so _sick_ of hearing people telling me that! My life is shit. I hate it. I hate myself for hating the world. I am in _so much pain_ that I can't think straight sometimes and there is no one left alive whom I can depend on or communicate with."

Those words hurt, but I gripped tighter to his hand, unwilling to let go.

"You have to let me. I can't _do this anymore._" He was begging me now. Begging me to let him walk away.

"You don't have to, we can...we can-"

"**LOOK AT ME!**" he screamed in my face, "WHY WOULD I WANT TO TRY? WHAT REASON DO I HAVE TO GO ON?"

He backed away and took a deep breath.

I was too stunned at his manner and words to think.

"My whole life...was planned to be ended _here_, three days ago. Everyone I love is dead. This person that has taken Harry Potter's place is a revolting facsimile of a human being and I have no wish to continue on playing the game. So please...you've already let me walk away twice. Do it one last time."

I couldn't think about it. My emotions were telling me to save the boy I loved, even as my mind was telling me he was gone. I had never approved of suicide and I didn't want to see him suffer.

I was stuck.

So was he.

"I can't..."

Harry looked at me as I was about to say it. The words died in my throat. A million words were said unspoken between us.

My hand loosened around his.

He had an expression in his face that I hope never to see again in another person. It occurred to me later that he would have gone with whatever I did. Had I refused to let go, he wouldn't have either.

He was tired of ignoring me. He had no agency left of his own.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Before either of us could say anything else, he was gone, strolling through the forest and disappearing into the gathering dusk.

I had come back to see my friend. I was going to leave knowing he had already died and I had helped his body catch up.

It was sickening...but I didn't begrudge him his decision. I wouldn't have been able to go on for half as long down his path as he did. Who was I, the former friend of his, to say what he should do?

"Goodbye Harry," I whispered to the wind rushing through my hair.

"_I loved you._"


	4. Tomorrow

_My dear friend Hermione,_

_I do not know how this letter shall find you. It has taken me months of staring at blank paper to figure out what I wanted to say. I do apologise for that._

_I didn't do it. _

_I wanted to. I came so close… But I came to realise that I could survive and even perhaps rebuild myself. Make myself anew. Not that I fear death any longer, if I ever did but I do not actively seek its release anymore. _

_My life is not what it once was but I am far better than the last time you saw me. I made graves for them all. I think that helped. The remembrance. Thinking it all through, they were the finest individuals I could ever hope to meet and by far the most unfortunate for running across both myself and the monster that haunted my steps from birth._

_I wonder about you still. Always…always. I wonder what you do, who you are now. Who you are with. Who you care for. What if I had stayed?_

_But I think we both know that nothing good would have come of it. At least, that is what I tell myself. Anything to the contrary would tear me apart just that little bit more._

_I didn't write just to drop my thoughts upon you. I do want to know how you are. To say that I am safe and on my way to finding happiness again. That things are good now and will get better._

_I didn't deserve that girl I knew, Hermione. Whatever she became…I don't think I deserve her either._

_Despite that…all of my love,_

_And your friend,_

_Harry x_


End file.
